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American Dramatists Series 

The Play of Life 

In Seven Acts 

"All the world is a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players ; 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages." 

— Shakespeare : "As You Like It." 

BY 
ALTA FLORENCE ARMSTRONG 




BOSTON 
THE GORHAM PRESS 

MCMXVII 



Copyright, 1917, by Alta F. Armstrong 



All Rights Reserved 






The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. 



FEB 17 1917 



)G!,D 46159 






TO 

MY MOTHER 



^^ Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law. 
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw; 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight. 
A little louder, hut as empty quite; 
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, 
Aftd beads and prayer-books are the toys of age; 
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before; 
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er." 

— "An Essay on Man" — Pope. 



PROEM 

THE WORLD, A STAGE: MAN, THE 
ACTOR. 

In the beginning, the Omnipotent gave the won- 
derful, interesting, beautiful WORLD as a magical 
stage for the Play of "Life" to be acted. 

Later, he gave MAN, the Actor in the Play of 
"Life": Even as you, — even as every Man has been 
given to act his part. 

Seven distinct Age Acts there are in the complete 
Play of "Life." No complete "Life" drama has 
less. No Play of "Life" has more. All of Life's 
Ages are in them. 

It has never mattered, and it will never matter, 
when Man lived, where he lived, what color, who 
he was, or what he did: These Seven Ages are 
acted out in a full drama of "Life" — always, on 
the same old, broad, wonderful stage of the 
WORLD, — in the days that were, in our days, — 
in the days that are to be! 

And so you act your part, and I act mine: You 
in your way, I in mine, — even as ancient man acted 
his part, future man will act his part, — always: 
"His acts being seven Ages." 

"One generation passeth aiuay, and another generation 
Cometh: but the earth abideth forever" 

— Eccl., i:4. 



'All the world's a stage' 



"All the loorld's a stage, 
And all the men and 'women merely players: 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant. 
Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms. 
And then the ivhining school-boy, ivith his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even at the cannon's mouth. And then the justice. 
In fair round belly with good capon lined. 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. 
Full of ivise saws and modern instances; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon. 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side. 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And 'whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. 
That ends this strange eventful history. 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 



7 am the vine, ye are the branches." 

—John, 15:5. 



"ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE 



"And all the men and luomen merely players: 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His acts being seven ages." 

THE STAR OF LIFE'S PLAY. 

First Age: "The infant, 

Meiuing and puking in the nurse's arms." 

Second Age: 
"The ivhining school-boy, nvith his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unnvillingly to school." 

Third Age: "The lover. 

Sighing like furnace, ivith a ivoeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow." 

Fourth Age: "A soldier. 

Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even at the cannon's mouth." 

Fifth Age: "The justice, 

In fair round belly with good capon lined. 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modern instances." 

Sixth "Age shifts 

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon. 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side. 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound." 

Last Age of all: 
"That ends this strange eventful history. 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion. 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." 



'All the world's a stage' 



THE PLAY OF LIFE 



Programme 

Time: Past, Present, Future. 
Place: The Stage of the World. 
Cast: The Nazarene: Star of "Life." 

Man : The Actor. 
Manager : The Omnipotent. 

'For me kind nature ivakes her genial povier, 
Suckles each herb, and spreads out every floiver; 
Annual for me, the grape, the rose, reneiu 
The juice nectareous and the balmy deiv; 
For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; 
For me, health gushes from a thousand springs; 
Seas roll to ivaft me, suns to light me rise; 
My footstool earth, my canopy the skies." 

— Pope: "Essay on Man." 



"I am the ivay, and the truth, and the life: no man 
Cometh unto the Father, but by me." — John, 14.: 6. 



THE PLAY OF LIFE 



"^All the world's a stage' 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It" 

The World as a Stage invites, fascinates, inspires 
Man to Life's activities. 

The World, so wondrous in its mystic grandeur, 
its beauty, its loveliness, its marvelous ensemble of 
nature, its myriad forms of life, its extravagant 
scenic wonder, furnishes innumerably fashioned stage 
settings for Man's wonderful, individual Play of 
"Life." 

The whimsical and fantastic mood of Dame Na- 
ture, when she moulded, folded, grooved, watered, 
painted, perfumed, lighted and shadowed this gor- 
geous region for Man's play-ground, truly appeased 
all desires of Man. The Omnipotent, in his won- 
drous generosity, made the Stage — j^ours and mine, 
an Annex to Heaven ! 

The arena for "Life's" panorama is from the East 
to the West; the North to the South, even in the 
aeronautic realm above and in the deep, dark caverns 
of the earth, while a few play their part on the 
pearly, coral bed of the ocean deep. 'Tis a Hippo- 
drome for untiring, advancing, adventurous Man ; a 

13 



"All the world's a stage' 



setting for every actor, whatsoever his individual in- 
clination may be. 

To adequately convey the least conception of the 
sumptuousness of the maze of splendor, Nature, in 
her lavish mood, poured out of her cornucopia of 
inexhaustible beauties on this broad stage, "it would 
require a quill pen from one of the most gorgeous 
hued birds that ever lived, dipped in a fluid of con- 
centrated mixture of a thousand selected rainbows," 
dissolved in millions of variegated smiling blossoms^ 
delicately tinted by hundreds of exquisitely colored 
sunsets: All this — and more, to give the slightest 
pen analysis of the bountiful floriculture array that 
drapes the globe in royal garment. 

Taking a panoramic view, we find spreading over 
the center of the World Stage that unfolds before 
man, a carpet of velvety emerald, shadowed and 
color-toned by the everchanging season's thermome- 
ter. This green expanse, figured in varied vegeta- 
tion designs, as unexpected and numerous as the 
grain of veneer wood, sufiice to excite constant ad- 
miration and anticipation. This tropical carpet of 
huge dimension, spreading out as plain, rolling hills 
and rumpled mountains, has promiscuous lake-rugs 
of crystal clearness that mirror their borders of 
multi-colored mosses and flowers, as if to send forth 
to our heavenly neighbors a reflected picture of our 
Setting Sublime! Spreading sheets of shimmering 
sand, here and there on the broad World Stage 
carpet, shine in jewel radiance like the blazing Sa- 
hara Solitaire that sparkles on the earth's equatorial 
ring. 

14 



'All the zvorld's a stage" 



This highly colored carpet is bordered by the 
wrinkled, misty ocean of generous spreading ex- 
panse. Its creeping fringe of waves interweave into 
the green expanse, making one immense world-rug. 
By art's supreme touch this rug is fitly finished 
on either end by a beautiful, broad, snow-white 
fringe, — and these ice-fringe threads that trail to 
the extreme limit of the platform, north and south, 
are made paths by Man! 

The roof rising high above Man's stage is an 
immeasurable vault of mystery, forming architec- 
ture's perfect dome, kaleidoscopic in splendor, — 
from blustering dark storm clouds to the prismatic 
display of sunset's daintiest tints. It is an arched 
roof draped in festoons of velvet clouds; studded 
by millions of twinkling incandescent lights, that 
peep at Man through waving banners of mist, — 
with the Solar luminary swinging across the arch, — 
a chandelier of radiance. 

"Hoiv beautiful is earth! my starry thoughts 
Look down on it from their unearthly sphere, 
And sing symphonious — Beautiful is earth! 
The lights and shadows of her myriad hills: 
The branching greenness of her myriad woods; 
Her sky-affecting rocks; her zoning sea; 
Her rushing, gleaming cataracts; her streams 
That race below, the winged clouds on high; 
Her pleasantness of vale and meadow!" 

— Mrs. Browning. 

With such an array of Glory above Man, of 
which one glimpse at the sublime envoys of na- 
ture's beauty should be sufficient to inspire him to 

15 



'All the world's a stage' 



aspire to Life's highest activities, it seems impossible 
to favor him, in his brief visit, vv^ith more, — yet, the 
bowl of beauty is made to run over, when on fes- 
tival occasions a brilliant rainbow is ushered out: 
an arched window into Paradise. And to each 
Man, the veil back of the "Rainbow Arch" will 
rise, — the final curtain. 



i6 



'All the world's a stage' 



"And all the men and ivomen merely players; 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages." 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

Man, the Actor. 

How wonderful is he, to be so bountifully fa- 
vored with such sublime Stage Settings ! 

Consider the minute, accurate perfection of the 
multifarious variety of Stage detail; the unob- 
structed course of the light beam in its years and 
years and years of travel, the countless complex 
mineralogical formations, the aroma of every flower, 
the flavor of fruit, the music of nature, the mould- 
ing of the icicle, the freshness of the dew-drop. 

Let imagination roam back, back ages upon ages, 
and dwell on the millions and millions of years that 
gave the "Nebular Hypothesis" to decorate the roof 
of Man's Stage in a fiery mist of mystery; the cen- 
turies upon centuries involved in unfolding the Om- 
nipotent's wonderful laws; the myriad years of de- 
veloping geology, in preparing the incomprehensible 
grandeur and perfection vested in the Stage of the 
World, to serve, only, as a back-ground for Man, 
— the perfect fruit of God's evolution; the highest 
conception of God on earth! 

17 



"All the world's a stage' 



"Floiver in the crannied ivall, 

I pluck you out of the crannies; — 
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 

Little flonver — but if I could understand 
JVhat you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know ivhat God and Man is." 
— Tennyson. 

Look further, and ponder on Man's capability of 
wondrous thought that leaps out into the immeas- 
urable, mysterious realms that surround him; the 
serene communion that is perpetual within him, — 
a seething of far-reaching ideas, — comprehensive, 
practical and reverential, mathematically proving his 
every thought and act! Man, who thrills with the 
emotions of joy; who is depressed by fear and grief; 
who radiates love, — all governed by his individual 
will! 

We may then justly wonder at the incredible mar- 
vel of Man, however low his state, for through the 
veil of mystery that floats around evolution's "Miss- 
ing Link" may be seen the divine ember that is lit 
in Man by the eternal fires. 

"God keeps his holy mysteries 

Just on the outside of man's dreams; 

In diapason sloiu, ive think 

To hear their pinions rise and sink, 

While they float pure beneath his eyes. 
Like snvans adown a stream." 
— Mrs. Broivning : "Human Life's Mystery." 

Man thus enters on the Stage at his given time, 
to play his role in "Life," accepting the precarious- 
ness of his stay to participate in the "Seven Ages." 
i8 



"All the u'orld's a stage" 



"Through the ages one increasing purpose runs, 
And the thoughts of men are ividened ivith the process 
of the suns." 

— Tennyson. 

He realizes, that whether he makes his debut early 
or late in the lengthy play, that his part is impor- 
tant; that of all the actors who preceded, or will 
follow, he is identified in the caste as the only Alan 
to act the part assigned him by the Omnipotent 
Manager; that there never was, nor never will be, 
another Man exactly like him, for he is a link in 
the chain of the caste of men in "Life" ! 

"O dear Spirit half-lost 
In thine oivn shadoiu and this fleshly sign 
That thou art thou — to//o ivaitest being born 
And hanish'd into mystery, and the pain 
Of this di-visible-indi'visible nj.wrld 
Among the numerable-innumerable 
Sun, sun, and sun, thro' finite-infinite space 
In finite -infinite time — our mortal 'veil 
And shatter'd phantom of that infinite One, 
Who made thee unconceivably thyself 
Out of His ivhole World-self and all in all — 
Lime thou, and of the grain and husk, the grape 
And ivyberry, choose; and still depart 
From death to death thro' life and life, and find 
Nearer and ever nearer Him ivho ivrought 
Not Matter, nor the finite-infinite 
But this main miracle, that thou art thou. 
With poiver on thine own act and on the ivorld." 

— Tennyson. 

Intellectual, rational and mortal man, a phe- 
nomenon of mind and matter, with his inexplicable 

19 



"All the world's a stage' 



language, sleep, emotions, dreams, conscience, sex, 
we cannot analyze: rather, we tell what Man does 
than what he is. Libraries are full of historical 
records of the activities of man, playing his part, 
in his time, since the rising of "Life's" curtain. 
Each Man, in his turn, appearing in the consecutive 
Age Scenes, governed by the same rule of develop- 
ment. Each man a link in the woven mesh of 
"Life," striving ever to play his assigned role effi- 
ciently, and thus contribute his part to the climax 
of the Play of "Life": To Live^ Love and Hope! 
Man, who has leaped thus far, may then ponder 
on his realm — back of the "Rainbow Arch" ! 

"The Ponver that hands the Rainbow in the shy — 
Pledge of his constant care — 
Dost paint tlie beauty of the Crimson dye; 
He hides thy treasures there." 



20 



THE STAR OF "LIFE" 

The Nazarene 

Of all the stars in earth's constellation 

Or shine in glorious wide arch of heav'n, 

'Tis He, who on the lost earth stage Life's realm 

Entered, the Star Divine at Bethlehem ; 

The Nazarene, who, in God's brief full time 

Entered into Life's every Age and clime, 

Encompassing all roles of Life on earth 

Giving quintessential grace to Life's worth. 

For the infant found on Life's lonely stage 

We have the New Bethlehem Manger Babe; 

For the boy in his eager search for truth. 

There is the wisdom revealed in Christ's youth. 

The Actor in Life's bright garden of love 

Is o'ershadowed by His Grace from above: 

Christ in battle for Man's eternal Life 

Set the world standard for upholding right, 

And the justice of His power divine 

Has been Man's Life long task just to define. 

Shorn by toil, physical strength may decline 

Still with hope to complete Life's divine plan, 

Age is cherished. Life is panegyrized 

Till the rising curtain to Paradise. 

Not a throb of Man's Life but Christ the King 

Rules in all Life's problems on earth supreme; 

21 



'All the world's a stage' 



Be they inwove in places high or low^ 

Christ the Star Illuminative may go 

And plant hope and faith in tired human hearts 

And lead them up to higher thoughts and lives. 

All salient aspects of human Man, 

Whatever be his time, place or race clan. 

May turn to the Nazarene Star for light. 

E'en far ignorant Man errs in the night. 

The perfect, spotless, sinless Star of "Life" 

Bore in Gethsemane Life's sorrow strife. 

And entered Death's dark gloom at Calvary 

To give Man the hope resurrection ray 

Of infinite truth of Man's salvation. 

For eternal Life's emancipation. 

— Alia Florence Armstrong. 

"When the fullness of the time came, God sent forth 
His Son, born of woman, born under the laia, 

That He might redeem them that laere under the laiv, 
that we might receive the adoption of sons." 

— Galatians, 4: 4-5. 



22 



SCENE I 
FIRST AGE 

"The infant, 
Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms." 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

Programme 

Time: Past, Present, Future. 

Cast: "The Infant." 

Scene: Fairyland on the World Stage. 

Lighting: Radiance of Dawn. 

Orchestra: (Heard in the distance.) 

Choral by Angels. 

Gentle Zephyrs hum; Birds sing. 
Stage Supervisor: The Nurse (Mother). 
Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 
The Nazarene 



23 



SCENE I 
FIRST AGE 

"The infant, 
Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms." 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

All is dark. 

At the peep of morn, just before the veil of night 
is lifted^ distant melodies float in across the stage, 
yet heavily shadowed, as if shrouded in a blanket 
of darkness, — submissive to the entrance of its su- 
perior — Man. Presently, in unison with a silver 
throated chorus far away, a shaft of delicate golden 
light penetrates the dark veil as a beacon of an- 
nouncement to the waiting stage! Then, while 
Angels bombard the stage with golden arrows, tipped 
with dew-drop jewels, the lips of Morn, in bird 
chanted song, seem happy to send in with the drift- 
ing zephyrs, to the staid, sleeping old World, a 
serenade of flute notes^ full of freshness, glory and 
might, while, in the Eastern wing of the stage, 
the Angels engage in meditation over the gift that 
is to be made for a season to the World. 

So, with the musical message and light that flashes 
forth in veiled solemnity, we discover our Hero, 
— a dainty, dimpled, diminutive pearl of purity, 

25 



'All the world's a stage' 



ushered by God's Angels on the Stage of the World, 
which is at once glorified by the presence of Man, 
the Spark of Divinity. In all the grand old World 
the nearest to God is this tiny actor; in him "Life," 
in all its purity and truth is vested. 

As if to rival Heaven's glory, M/hence the infant 
came, the World-Stage takes on an atmosphere of 
exquisite delicacy and envelops the Dreamer in a 
fairyland of dainty elegance, — a miniature perfec- 
tion that charms. Yet, while he is haunted by a 
delicate revelry of fancy-lore's fancifulness, and 
tiny elves fan him with the beams of dawn, the lit- 
tle visitor smiles over some secret the Angels must 
have whispered to him : a secret that has never been 
told! Have the Angels told him he possesses the 
estimable quality of winning the glories of "Life" 
in an humble, resigned way, or have they revealed 
that his "Spark of Divinity" will ignite the world 
in a fire that will blaze on the history pages of the 
drama of "Life"? Does he smile serenely over the 
knowledge that he is to be a "King Cheops," and 
play his part building Pyramids to awe Man; or 
possibly the "Emperor Ming," and contribute to 
"Life's" drama by founding a Dynasty? Yet, it 
may be he is anticipating the role of an "Alexander 
the Great," a "Shakespeare," a "Gladstone," a 
"Washington," — aye, the infant dreamer may be 
any of these, and more, playing his part in the 
"First Age," — for they all flash the Secret Smile! 

"Nobody ^weighed the baby's smile, 
Or the love that came with the helpless one. . . ." 



26 



'All the world's a stage 



''No index tells the mighty ivorth 
Of little baby's quiet breath, 
A soft, unceasing metronome. 
Patient and faithful unto death. 

Nobody WDeighed the baby's soul. 

For here on earth no nveight may be 

That could avail; God only knoijos 
Its value in eternity." 

— Mrs. E. L. Beers. 

Is he encouraged by this intuition to take a peep 
at his stage? He does so, and alas, the little actor 
suffers from an acute case of "stage fright." With 
most plaintive notes he plays on the emotions of 
Man. The tiny physical bundle that wraps his 
Spark of Divinity seems conscious of its utter 
helplessness, and touches at once the heart of the 
strong by his tender appeal, made in the most sor- 
rowful notes on the harp of pathos. The cry of a 
babe, in its weakness, its sincerity, its lonesomeness, 
— not yet attune to the vibrant waves of "Life," 
touches the heart strings of the earth's most hard- 
ened and calloused Man, — striking the lost chord 
therein, making it vibrate anew in sympathy for 
the helplessness of the infant that is launched on 
the stage of "Life" : The infant, who, without 
the care and love of Man, would perish. So, en- 
throned : 

"Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms," 
— Shakespeare. 

he is saturated with the incense of love, the suprem- 

est gift that floated in from Heaven, — the saving 

27 



'All the world's a stage' 



grace of Man. By this stimulating gift, the least, 
the strangest, is soon encouraged to trust. By the 
"nurse's" generous outpouring of this strengthening 
tonic of "Life," — Love, spectrumatized in kindness, 
patience and generosity — the little actor is encour- 
aged, and gradually emerges from the land of 
dreams to demonstrate, feebly, his desire to be iden- 
tified with Man, following precisely the pattern of 
development his predecessors used, prompted by the 
spontaneity of being. 

The infant, the dearest and newest of all "Life's" 
caste^ is yet too much aloof from Man's tenacious 
exertion, spent in playing his advanced roles in 
"Life," to be at once recognized as an active partici- 
pant in the tense drama that is going on. He is the 
delicate bud of folded petals of Mind, Heart and 
Will; the bud of Man, that must be bathed in the 
sunshine of Love, that petal by petal he may unfold 
and develop into World's crowning flower! 

Gradually, he is coached in the elementary cues 
of "Life," his "First Age" developing into a series 
of feature acts. 

Having been convinced by Nature's intuition that 
he IS; experimentally, he timidly tests, one by one, 
his presentative powers. How he blinks and squints 
with those first peeps, as if coquetting with sight. 
The little curtains rise and fall that he may re- 
treat, intermittently, into the "Land of Dreams," 
until he becomes accustomed to his surroundings. 
Yet, while he is privileged recesses from the sensa- 
tion of sight, secretly, unconsciously, he records 
on the clean slate of his mind the waves of sound 

28 



'All the world's a stage' 



that beat on his miniature organ, varying up and 
down the scale, from the pelting, unharmonious 
waves of an earth's tempestuous storm, to a mother's 
soothing song. The current of contact develops 
wonderful confidence in the new actor : the magnetic 
current of touch seems the satisfying link to hu- 
manity. How delicately, yet with all his strength, 
he cleaves to anything that passes his way. A weak 
grasp on the world, but who can tell how strong 
that "grasp on the world" may ultimately become! 

The flavors of life that tickle his senses of taste 
and smell are introduced so gradually, and with 
possibly less force, that he is less demonstrative 
in their recognition. We, however, enjoy his evi- 
dent relish of his "Milk of Life," and observe his 
keen detection of substances of foreign flavor. 

From constant exercise of his discovered senses, 
we notice his representative power feebly develop. 
He recognizes a touch : the fondling of his Nurse at 
once contents him; her voice is soon discriminated 
from other sounds that float in on his tiny drum. 
He associates the touch and the voice, then he wit- 
nesses its source by seeing. Gradually, these powers 
are registered in faintest imprint in the index of his 
intellect; at first, not for what they are, but as es- 
sential elements for "Life's" intellectual cues. 

Spontaneously, as physical strength is poured into 
his little body, he toys with these interesting at- 
tributes of "Life," exercising them madly in one 
round of confusion. Every color entrances him, 
every movement invites him to ecstasy, every sound 
attracts, and in response his movements are jumbled. 

29 



"All the tvorld's a stage" 



He wiggles and kicks in all directions. These re- 
flective flashes of observation prove the appendant 
of knowledge in Man. 

This intellectual petal of the bud of Man is the 
first that attracts us by unfolding; then. curls back, 
slightly, the petal of the Heart, the sensibilities. 
Buoyed by the intoxicating spirit of existence, he 
begins to vibrate with emotions, and bubbles forth 
from the delicate temple that encases him joyously 
cooing, gurgling in laughter and exploding in tears. 
These waves of emotion that play over him find 
expression in unregulated bouncing and flouncing. 

Then the development of physical control is 
quite noticeable. He discovers his extravagance in 
movements, and uses reserve, confining his move- 
ments to those that prove sufficient for the occa- 
sion. Attracted by an alluring object, we see him 
reach for it with definite aim; so, by repetition of 
this satisfying experience, his fluttering movements 
are subjected to a precise orderly coordination. 

We see him venture totteringly, fearlessly forth 
on the path of "Life," giving his exhaustless inter- 
est, absorbingly to the matter-of-fact settings that 
border his entrance. Vivid, penetrating impressions 
are made on his delicate mind by his first contacts 
with the World's wonderful offerings for instru- 
ments in working out "Life's" plot. How he ac- 
cepts unhesitatingly as his (as the Omnipotent in- 
tended Man always to do), the beautiful flower 
by the way, the shining pebble in the path, or the 
equally wonderful inorganic substance of a clod of 
dirt ; — all, to the trustful, fearless child being equal- 
30 



'All the world's a stage' 



\y attractive, until he has them famih'arized and defi- 
nitely catalogued. His initial contacts with impor- 
tant essential objects — the home, the horse, the dog, 
the machine — stand out impressively by their mar- 
velous significance, only to be, by repetition, indeli- 
ble facts that link the actor to the Stage of the 
World. Thus, he darts restlessly here and there 
in eager pursuance of the bewildering stage furnish- 
ings, — learning their names and uses in supporting 
and promoting his activities. 

How the playthings of "Life" attract him! A 
stick, a ball, a pool of water, bewitch him, while a 
wiggling fish, a flying bird, a grazing horse, charm 
him. We witness him in ecstasy over the quiver- 
ing movements of a singing bird that pours forth 
floods of delirious music; pensive as he visits the 
pelting waves that roll in on the sunny, sandy sea- 
shore, innocently dissolving all mystery. The moon 
and the stars furnish an animation of study. The 
blink of his trustful, appreciative, observing eye 
seems the only true understanding of the magnani- 
mous! He proves himself a scientist in the truest 
sense by the startling rapidity of his comprehen- 
sion and definite indexing of the World's innumera- 
ble settings. So^ the untiring, undoubting investi- 
gator, prompted ever by his instinct for adventure, 
pushes persistently on into "Life's" buzzing, hum- 
ming, widening field. 

The infant, who thus expands in the simple lux- 
ury of being in the first hours of "Life's" morning, 
is not exaggeratedly prolonged, for from exercise 
of the higher faculties the young actor consciously 

31 



'All the world's a stage 



formulates his knowledge and soon develops a com- 
prehensive understanding that "Life is real, Life 
is earnest," which sinks deep in his fancy free, un- 
tarnished soul, where inconceivable secretive emo- 
tions soliloquize and confidences seethe, making him 
a child. 

This fresh^ unencumbered, non-resisting child 
proves the most fertile soil for mental growth in 
the garden of "Life." The harvest from his un- 
cultivated mind, with but an oasis of wisdom, is, 
with a little irrigation, bountiful in the fruits of 
simple abstractions, clear reasoning about concrete 
things, mastered and comprehensive languages, math- 
ematical estimates, the understanding of social laws 
and the ethics of his day. The ease with which he 
masters and comprehends "Life's" cues, during the 
successive child years; his display of perfect logic 
and mature faculties astound the adult observer. 
His precocity for "Life's" essential knowledge about 
his Stage of the World, in certain ways, is equal 
to that of any later Age, for during the few brief 
j^ears of his childhood his physical and mental foun- 
dations are substantially constructed of the com- 
mon, matter-of-fact stones, all cemented in perfect 
symmetry, with the mortar of experience, with all 
the skill of an accomplished mason of knowledge. 
On this foundation he constructs the complete frame- 
work for "Life's" building, which he sheaths and 
decorates during his following Ages, as the "Man" 
architect indulges his will. 



33 



SCENE II 



SECOND AGE 



"The 'whining school-boy, nvith his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Univillingly to school." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 



Programme 

Time: Past, Present, Future. 
Cast: "The whining school-boy." 
Scene: The World in miniature. 
Lighting: First clear rays of Morning. 
Orchestra: Selections from "Nature." 
Stage Supervisors: Coaches. 
Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 
The Nazarene 



33 



SCENE II 
SECOND AGE 

"The 'whining school-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

A gentle, sympathetic harmony peacefully throbs 
from Nature's varying symphony; a piping solo 
of a bird's cheery morning greeting; a sonata from 
the tuneful breezes and vibrating leaves; an or- 
chestration of sorrovv^ful lamentations of Nature's 
wailing vi^inds and melancholy vv^aves, gathering, 
svi^elling and soaring to the frenzied anguish of a 
tempestuous hurricane! Then, sinking, gradually, 
to the gentle rhythmical patter of a crystal rain 
shower, — penetrated by a far-off gleam of morning's 
crimson banners, to light the wavering path of: 

"The whining school-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school." 

— Shakespeare. 

Thus, we are greeted by the Actor that graces 
the "Second Age," — the veriest mystery that appears 
under the curved theatrical dome, he, the heir to 
"Life"! 

35 



"All the world's a stage' 



With his worldly estate and cues to his activities 
fairly well charted, we see him, in a perfectly sure 
and familiar manner, venture leisurely forth to sur- 
vey the "How and the Why" of the allotment 
"Life" holds for him: 

"Why tivo and ttvo make four? Why round is not 

square? 
Why the rock stands still, and the light clouds fly? 
Why the hea^vy oak groans, and the ixhite ivillotvs sigh? 
Why deep is not high, and high is not deep?" 

— Tennyson. 

— to be, during this excursion of inspection, a bless- 
ing, a trouble, a rest, a burden, a torment, — and yet 
the bubbling joy of "Life's" Play that is in fuH 
swing. Life's song would lose its charm without the 
mischief, wit and glee of the carefree, indolent, ever 
idle, always busy boy. 

He seems far more interested in the Stage proper- 
ties than the theme of "Life," and in this indif- 
ferent, self-confident, unpretentious state, we have 
an actor truly natural. Artificial activity is for- 
eign to him. He acts independently, catering not to 
applause of Coach, Audience or Manager, but will- 
ingly loses himself among the by-ways of Nature, 
as her reverent student. 

The glow of curiosity seems continued from his 
"First Age" to anchor him securely in his "Second 
Scene." He instinctively feels himself kin to all 
life, organic and inorganic, and hungeringly grasps 
all unvarnished truths, — those that are not enameled 
by the sham of "Life." Thus, he recedes to the 

36 



'All the world's a stage' 



shadow and shelter of Nature to be an integral part, 
intensely interested in all that is "awfully vast and 
elegantly little"; learning the habits and ways of 
the plants in the World's garden, that saturate the 
atmosphere with their sweet, penetrating perfumes, 
their ever-varjdng dress; studying the system of the 
waters, their rise and fall, their ebb and flow in the 
nervous throb of "Life"; makes acquaintances and 
comrades with the animals of the woods; examines 
the mineralogical and horticultural formations of 
the earth ; meditates over the fleeting meteors of the 
sky, — so closely associating himself with these inani- 
mate substances that he steals Nature's heart and 
penetrates the mysteries over which his scientific eld- 
ers deliberate. So harmoniously is he blended with 
Nature that he grows freely with the young plants, 
busying himself with a hundred nothings ; beginning 
many things, finishing none ; forgetting on the mor- 
row the plans of the previous day; a term of idle- 
ness, a term of revery, — the primitive state of a 
savage, without his labors, without his anxiety, — 
lost, repeatedly, in soliloquy over Nature's workings, 
possibly the going and coming of an insect, the ca- 
prices of a beetle; indolent, yet busy, without object, 
but leading, nevertheless, indirectly, to a thought, 
and, 

"The thoughts of Youth are long, long thoughts." 

— Longfelloiu. 

In the Springtime of "Life," the seed planting 
season, seeds of Truth are imbedded in the broad, 

37 



'All the world's a stage' 



fertile, untilled field of the boy's mind by direct 
and indirect sowing. Multitudinous seeds, like those 
of the earthy each having a peculiarity of form and 
purpose, which, after being imbedded in the mind 
and nourished with time, blossom forth in "Life's" 
harvest time in myriad forms. 

Like the vegetable species, seeds planted in differ- 
ent soils and climates propagate in proportion to 
the quality of the soil and zone, some developing 
into perfection, others shriveling to death ; seeds sim- 
ilar in appearance, yet the off-springs are so differ- 
ent, — from the fairest flowers to great sturdy oaks. 
So it is in planting the seeds of Truth in the boy's 
mind; some may take deep root and grow, others 
struggle along, possibly die. Some Truth may cause 
him to blossom into a beautiful poet, rising to gen- 
eral and transcendental truths, while other truths 
may make him a strong, sturdy pine in the forest 
of Men, swaying not with the winds of sin. 

The boy, with his wild strange ways, his queer 
remarks and odd replies, sometimes foolish, often 
wise, is now invited to the directed planting of the 
tiny seeds, which contain within them the root of 
"Life." The Stage Supervisors of this Age are now 
linked with his activities, as he is coached in "Life's" 
truths that have aided his predecessors. His field 
of mind is plowed, harrowed, and in definite direct 
lines, the seeds are planted, nurtured and cultivated 
by whatever instruments and tools peculiar to his 
time and place, so that at the harvest season there 
will be no barren places, no weeds, but straight ac- 
cessible rows of ripened fruit, easily harvested. 
38 



"All the world's a stage' 



Eagerly he accepts from "Life's" older partici- 
pants the threads of knowledge that serve in the 
toils, problems and needs of "Life," that are un- 
raveled for him by diverse ways, tutored according 
to the peculiar custom of his day, whether in an edi- 
fice of knowledge that offers an assimilated, classi- 
fied routine of development, where he is coached 
by blackboard, globe^ map or book; or he enjoys 
this blissful scene by letting experience suffice as 
Coach. Nevertheless, in either event, aided or un- 
aided, this term of learning about things, this ab- 
sorbing state of being, throws a glow around the lad, 
— an aureole that emphatically distinguishes this 
period from others so closely associated, yet so for- 
eign. 

He soon feels burdened with his conception of 
things as they are, and in the conceit of his percep- 
tion of the practical assets of "Life" (for he feels 
that he knows all worth knowing), with yet no hint 
as to his later wonderful participation in the Bat- 
tle of "Life," his thirst of curiosity seems tempora- 
rily quenched, which causes the glow it supported to 
vanish. So, self-confident in his beautiful ignorance, 
he indulges in an adolescent recess in the Springtime 
of "Life," without glow, care or doubt, — deliber- 
ately "w a i t i n g," a dormant volcanic Man ! The 
lad, small and unpretentious, neither receding nor 
proceeding, is s t i 1 1, like the surface of a quiet lake, 
high on a pinnacle of a mountain, sheltered from 
the winds by a giant granite wing: a lake so small 
an elk might leap across; so still, its mirrored sur- 
face, by transparency deception, invites exploration 

39 



'All the world's a stage' 



of its smooth, sandy, apparently shallow bed, yet 
to one probing the depth of such an unpretentious, 
tiny, quiet pool, unfathomable depths are revealed 
which plumbing line cannot reach! So it is with 
the boy, enjoying the placid years of adojescence, 
without revealing a ripple of the wave of enthusi- 
asm, apparently spiritually asleep, shallow, crude, 
earthy, — yet, the depth of a boy's soul cannot be 
fathomed! The latent powers, physically, intellec- 
tually and spiritually, that might be unearthed from 
the unattractive, coarse, ruggedness beneath the 
.quiet surface of the boy, by the pressure of time 
and friction of battle, may be wrought the finest 
gems of the world. There may be in the calm, 
secluded lake of the boy's soul, buried treasures that 
he will dig out, refine and polish and offer them as 
a gift to the world; possibly in the form of a voice 
that will thrill the Stage of "Life" with ecstasy, ju- 
dicial power that will enable him to wield the scep- 
ter over man, — some richness that will glisten in its 
pureness and hold the record for art's perfection. , 
Thus, the boy's stream of "Life" flows gently 
on from this quiet lake, flowing over the rock-ribbed 
mountain-side, eroding and adjusting its path to the 
least resistance and in the sweeping progress of the 
flow, particle by particle, all in the same direction, 
growing in size and strength, his "Life" develops 
into a peaceful, well-directed stream of pronounced 
current to press on the lock of youth, which, when 
unlocked, results in a torrent of force in the cur- 
rent of the stream of "Life." 



40 



SCENE III 
THIRD AGE 

"The lover, 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

Programme 

Time: Past, Present, Future. 

Cast: "The Lover." 

Scene: Valley of Dreamland. 

Lighting: Splashed in Shimmering Sunshine. 

Orchestra : Song on the chords of the Heart. 

Stage Supervisor: Love's Mistress. 

Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 
The Nazarene 



41 



SCENE III 
THIRD AGE 

"The lover, 
Sighing like furnace, ivith a nvoeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebroiv." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

"All the world loves a lover/' so v^^ith what eager- 
ness we anticipate the entrance of the actor who is 
to play this fascinating role. The curtain scarcely 
lowers on the boy enjoying his recess of "Life," un- 
til it rises again, and, as the caterpillar is trans- 
formed into a brilliant-hued butterfly, so the dull, 
quiescent actor of the closing act of the "Second 
Scene" appears before us clothed in the beautiful 
airy wings of Youth, the "Lover" of "Life," 

"With a dream 'neath his ivaking eyelids hidden 
And a frequent sigh unbidden." 

— Mrs. Broivning. 

The song of his awakened heart is the tuning 
fork by which the melody of "Life" is keyed. 

"Quick with youth's strong, sweet story, — thirst- 
ing now to play the Man" — his thrilling interpre- 
tation of the song of his Heart instantaneously por- 
trays the perfection of his being. As the petals of 

43 



"All the world's a stage' 



the flower open out to drink in the rich rays of the 
sun's radiance and pour out in return its rare fra- 
grance and adorn by its perfection, so Youths the 
brightest flower of the world, basking in the sun- 
shine of "Life," unfolds before us in this act his 
beautiful petals of Mind, Heart and Will to full- 
blown blossom. 

In sympathetic response we follow him, as he ad- 
vances, buoyantly, on the stage, which is for a sec- 
ond time, a "Fairyland on the World Stage," — a 
Valley of Dreamland, dotted by fountains of Hope, 
studded by springs of Purity, threaded by streams 
pressed with currents of Energy, strengthened by 
glaciers of Courage, — a Valley where the realities 
of "Life's" difficult tasks roll ofif into indistinct 
mountains, hazy on the distant horizon, framing 
the dazzling picture of Youth's Dreamland! 

To Youth, possessing the temperament in the June 
of Life, the stage is perennially gay ; he bubbles over 
with the enlivening spirit of happiness, Youth's chief 
ornament ; 

"Happy, not in ivhat it has, but in nvhat it is: 

Not in possessing much, but itt hoping and loving much," 

Indifferent things are pleasant to him, sad things 
are soon driven out of his mind, care and misfortune 
rest easily upon him, — he lives in the future, build- 
ing for the climax of "Life," and this hope, this an- 
ticipation, paint everything for him in their gorgeous 
colors, hiding the displeasing things of "Life." 

The actor of Scene III, having drunk from the 
cup of "Life" during the placid ages, is now in- 

44 



'All the world's a stage' 



toxicated with it, and we see surging upon him the 
inevitable tide of Youth's bubbling activities to 
follow the pattern of tradition. Like the waves of 
the ocean's indefatigable tides, pressing and break- 
ing in shattered sprays, filling full every channel and 
arm of the sea, so the spirit of Youth comes gleaming 
and roaring irresistibly on the shore of time, grad- 
ually advancing, filling and overflowing all our 
actor's channels of "Life" with Love, Faith and 
Hope. 

From the splashing onrush of the tide of Youth, 
we see the frothy foam thereof wafted helter-skelter, 
but the essential strength is anchored in the stirring 
of the deep waters of Life, the turbulent power of 
enthusiasm, the backbone of effort, making " 'Youth' 
another way to spell 'Life.' " During this age of 
"Life," man makes of himself a storage battery of 
enthusiasm, love, courage, faith, religion, — the vir- 
tues of "Life," that support him for the remainder 
of his time; his future activity depending virtually 
on the strength of his battery of Youthj for Youth 
is concentrated life. 

This stimulating tide of enthusiasm that rises in 
Youth brings to the surface many different elements, 
traits and emotions that lend at once a flourish to 
his acting, riveting our attention. We are held 
spellbound by his extravagant expenditure of life's 
vitalities. The unruly whirlpools of rationalism, 
melancholy and gay moods, inchoation, impulsive- 
ness, venturesomeness and radicalism, each in them- 
selves danger signals and sink holes, awe us with 
fear for our actor's safety until they are sucked in 

45 



"All the world's a stage' 



by the strong current of "Life" that is pushed on 
by the force of knowledge of "Life," love of "Life" 
and will to live, which harmoniously blend the 
actor's widely varying tendencies info a directed 
power on its endless course, daringly competitive in 
its inexhaustible strength. 

The actor of this age of untranslatable yearnings, 
of confused vehement emotions, of all sorts of spir- 
itual awakenings, with his wealth of energy spilling 
in whatsoever action his temperament prompts in- 
dulgence, nibbles hungrily the fruit of the tree of 
knowledge of Good and Evil. Eagerly, he seeks 
to experience the whispers of his phantasm and pur- 
sues the fancy of his hope. 

His optimistic view of the present and glorious 
hopefulness for the future blossoms into the flower 
of love, the pure, ethereal love of life, its living; — 
the love of ideals, love of cause, love of art, religion, 
love of his fellow actors in the cast of "Life," and 
it is this magnanimous love that proves the leaven 
of "Life" that ferments and makes this Age rise to 
the highest! This illuminative truth is strikingly 
exemplified in the actor's sincere, fervent, unselfish 
love for the 

"Queen of his Age." It exalts him into sanctity and 
in celestial mystery he bows submissively. "One pair of 
eyes are worshiped, one voice is all there is of music." 

"The lover, 
Sighing like furnace, ivith a ivoeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyehronu. 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

46 



'All the ivorld's a stage' 



We see an age robed in the warmth of love, cover- 
ing all blemishes, transforming them into beauty, 
leveling all inequalities. This wonderful warmth 
of love — would that it would never cool! 

With the full unfolding of the petal of the Heart, 
the 

". . . . Loving thoughts that start 
Into being are like perfume from the 
blossom of the heart." 

The winds seem to blow balmier, the skies seem 
to wear a softer blue, the sunsets seem more gor- 
geous, the moonlight seems purer, the birds seem 
gayer, the flowers brighter, the brook's song sweeter 
as it dances along over its pebbly bed. This hallow- 
ing melts all "Life's" realities in sympathy with the 
joyous, rosy-hued realization of "Life" and its 
wondrous value. By this Love, which is the moral 
law of man, the actor's every gesture, every phase 
of "Life's" philosophy of expression, is tempered. 

As at a loom, on the chains of knowledge and 
ignorance, the youthful actor, rich in his inheritance 
of "Life's" wonderful threads, experimentally starts 
weaving them, using some threads extravagantly, 
others sparingly, with no apparent definiteness of 
outline or uniformity of texture. With the fine 
silken threads of joy, hope, love, he weaves homespun 
yarns of grief, fear and hatred, ravelings of tempta- 
tion and sin, twisted with golden strands of religion. 
Gradually, as the threads unwind from the shuttle 
of selected occupation, a pronounced pattern de- 

47 



'All the world's a stage' 



velops, being governed primarily by the woof of 
circumstance, drawn by the tension of his will. 

The "Life" Scene of Youth, which the child 
dreams of, is the cherished "Age" of "Life." Youth, 
the radiant Age of man, that "psychologists have 
scrutinized, philosophers have discoursed upon, 
cynics have sneered at," pessimists have fought 
against, artists have painted, poets have exalted in 
rhyme, musicians have sung about, has never been 
completely caught, except as we catch a glimpse of 
the intangible and fleeting scene as played by Man 
on the broad stage of "Life." This evasiveness 
furnishes the real charm of "Life's" supreme scene, 
acted in the quintessence of living beauty. 

"The tissues of the life to be 
He iveaves ivith colors all his oivn, 
And in the fields of destiny 
He reaps as he has sonun," 



48 



SCENE IV 
FOURTH AGE 

"A Soldier, 
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even at the cannon's mouth." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 



Programme 

Time: Past, Present, Future. 

Cast: "The Soldier." 

Scene: Battlefield of "Life." 

Lighting: High Noon. 

Orchestra: March of Time. 

Stage Supervisors: The World of Actors. 

Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 
The Nazarene 



49 



SCENE IV 
FOURTH ACT 

"A Soldier, 
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even at the cannon's mouth." 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It" 

Simultaneously, with the penetrating bugle call of 
life's need, that floats out over Youth's valley of 
tranquillity, we see the actor in the distance respond, 
and advance toward "Life's" Scene of Battle that 
lies so near. He rapidly approaches, leaving Youth's 
radiant "Dreamland" in the background, gradually 
dimming and fading into a luminous vapory halo 
circling the youthful actor. He turns and gazes 
back over Youth's playground for one fond caress of 
the sunshine he basked in, the rich fruits he feasted 
on and stored away, — sweeping the invitingly smooth 
lay with one lingering glance of love, which proves 
only to emphasize the raw, rugged, glaring, gigantic 
mountains of life's precariousness that jut up appall- 
ingly before him — "Life's" Battlefield, so closely 
hugging his beautiful valley! 

Thus, on the brink of his Fourth Age, he pauses 
to survey the rough, jagged, treacherous, rocky 

51 



'All the world's a stage' 



mountains of tribulation, disappointment, evil, dis- 
ease, catastrophes; the sharp blades and snags of 
"Life's" accidents, to scar, wound, deter and destroy 
Man walking "Life's" path. As poison is poison, 
possibly in differently-shaped vials, under different 
labels, so "Life's" adversities in all the shifting 
scenes of time, past and present, are the same, 
clothed differently. 

Decision is thrust upon him. Either he is to 
oppose or relax, tragically waste his strength or 
end the battle in joyful exuberant victory. The 
tenseness of the hour of decision, how it thrillingly 
electrifies ! 

Over and above the stair-step mountains of Ad- 
versity he sees the soaring, invincible, immortal peak 
of infinite Truth that always prevails, whatsoever 
his point of view, directing, inviting Man to put on 
the armor for adversity and make the peerless climb. 
After taking in the "setting" of the Battlefield of 
"Life," we see him experiencing the soliloquy of 
"Life" : "To be or not to be, that is the question." 
Thunderingly, dawns upon him the realization of his 
individual responsibility to his Manager, the Omnip- 
otent, and how he has heretofore been privileged 
the easy, delightful, beautiful roles of "Life," and 
that the perfection, exaltation and perpetuation of 
the "Play of Life" depend solely on the heroism 
of its actors in the Age of strife, service and tragedy, 
— the Age he now finds himself in. This over- 
whelming conviction induces all that is within him — 
the virtues that have been growing during his pre- 
vious Ages — to blossom forth in unison to a con- 

52 



'All the world's a stage' 



sciousness of his enormous endowment to be a crea- 
ture of Eternity rather than of Time, — no longer 
a parasite, but privileged an opportunity to engage 
in the performance of "Life's" difficult tasks, in his 
given time, "Now," the narrow isthmus between 
two eternities, the past and future. 

"Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard — " 

— Shakespeare. 

His quest of Truth determined, he enlists on the 
muster roll for War against the enemies of "Life" 
that tend to warp Man ; to battle with Nature, men 
and with himself; a War from which there is no 
discharge, selecting his armor with care from the 
resources of his accumulated virtues: 

"Girdle of Truth, 
Brestplate of Righteousness, 
Shield of Faith, 
Sivord of the Spirit, 
Helmet of Salvation, 
Feet shod nvith Readiness, — " 
— Ephesians, 6: 13-17. 

and with the ammunition of Youth, ignited by the 
spark "Dare," the conflict of conquest is on! 

His high appreciation of his newly assumed role in 
"Life" weaves itself into a well-defined virtue of 
Duty, that links the actor to his Omnipotent Man- 
ager, stimulating his effort to play his part in fullest 
veneration. 

In assuming, the role of the Soldier in "Life," he 
enlists to give his life; to give back that which "Life" 
has given him; physical aid to the weak, cheer to 
the weary, knowledge to the dull, courage to the 

53 



'All the world's a stage 



fearfng, hope to the faithless, — gives of his heart 
to Man and Manager, in sincere appreciation of 
"Life's" participation, by striving passionately to 
perfect and exalt his role, — pouring out his contri- 
bution to sustain, produce, perpetuate and perfect 
the plot of "Life." Whatsoever may be his rank 
in the army of men, whether "Private," "Lieuten- 
ant" or "General," he enters equally into the spirit 
of the cause, selecting from Life's armory any one 
of the commonly used weapons, and. by exercising 
confidence in his skill, may push to the front rank, 
a Man of Men. He mav select a pen, like Milton, 
and with a drop of ink make millions think; a 
chisel, like Michael Angelo, and transform rugged 
rooks into lines of symmetrical beauty and expres- 
sion ; a brush, as Apelles, and with art's supreme 
touch deceive the beasts of the fields with a splash 
of paint. He may, through the strength of his 
enthusiastic determination kept constantly burning 
in a hard gem-like flame, register himself on "Life's" 
stage a genius, — a King of Achievement, taking his 
part in the battle as a "Caesar," to rule; a "Demos- 
thenes," an "Antony," oratorical canons, whose 
powerful utterances, good and bad, echo over the 
stage of man, age after age; a "Copernicus," who 
blazed the path leading to astronomy ; a "Descartes," 
the father of philosophy; a "Confucius"; an "Isaac 
Newton." Aye, he may be any one of "Life's" Gen- 
erals in the varied spheres of man's activity, in any 
of the different countries, under their peculiar cir- 
cumstances and conditions; be he a prodigy in the 
realm of science, philosophy, anatomy, geology, the- 

54 



'All the world's a stage' 



ology, poetry, music or literature, since all of these 
capabilities are in him, more or less, his participa- 
tion depending on his volition as to which one or 
more he may select to contribute his power in mak- 
ing his fight, in his battle, in his way, following the 
banner of Truth, as he sees it. Yet, 

"The world knows nothing of its greatest men," 
— for, no less, in promoting the Manager's plan 
of "Life" are the faithful fathers of these wonderful 
men that lead in "Life's" battle; the "torch-bearers," 
those men that pitch the tents for shelter, shovel the 
fort embankment for protection, build the bridges 
for "Life's" army to pass over; those great men of 
no renown, who, lost in the vast number of men, as 
a pearl in a strand of perfect beads, one so like 
another, loses its identity in the circle strand, yet of 
itself holds a priceless premium for its intricate 
perfection. 

"They have no place in storied page; 

No rest in marble shrine. 
They are past and gone ivith a perished age; 

That died and 'made no sign.' 
But ivork that shall find its ivages yet, 
And deeds that their Manager luill not forget. 

Done for their love divine — 



"Oh seek them not nuhere sleep the dead. 

Ye shall not find their trace. 
No graven stone is at their head; 

No green grass hides their face. 
But sad and unsceen is their silent grave — 
It may be the sand or the deep sea wave, 

Or a lonely desert place — 



55 



"All the world's a stage' 



"They healed sick hearts till theirs ivere broken, 
And dried sad tears till theirs lost sight; 
We shall know at last by a certain token 
■ Hoiv they fought and fell in the fight. 
Salt tears of sorroijo unbeheld, 
Passionate cries unchronicled, 
And silent strifes for the right — 
Angels shall count them and the earth shall sigh 
That she left her best Actors to battle and die." 
— Sir Edwin Arnold. 

The heart of every man, first and last, is haunted 
by an ideal, an aspiration to achieve that bends all 
that is within him to a purpose, galvanizing him. It 
is the clustering of his daily deeds to a clearly 
defined focus that enables him to play his part to 
completion. 

"Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even at the cannon's mouth." 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

The flash of vanity in him has to be satisfied. He 
wishes to distinguish himself in performing "Life's" 
tasks, whatsoever vocation he elects to follow, 
whether weaving a basket, digging a canal, building 
a house, writing a song, — according to his Idea, will 
and time of acting. To the fulfillment of the 
possibilities of his manhood in the Army of "Life," 
he fights on, continually plodding, moment by mo- 
ment, day after day, all through the Age. He per- 
sistently strains to the point of fatigue the forces 
within him, at the sacrifice of body and brain, — ^yet 
husbanding health, driving steadily toward his 

56 



'All the world's a stage 



"Mountain-Top" of Truth, ultimately, by fortitude 
and persistence, to achieve! 

In this Age of distinction, it is difficult to discern 
any single man actor; he may be any one of many, 
since no two actors play their parts alike, therefore 
observance of any one participant would not coin- 
cide with the activities of another. Each man so 
different, j'^et all so much alike, each fighting so dif- 
ferently, yet all so much alike, portraying vivid con- 
trast by their varied manifestations, for man's will 
predominates, shaping his destiny. He enacts his 
aspirations, his emotions, his dreams, according to 
his vision, acting: 

". . . In the living Present, 
Heart ivithin, and God o'erhead!" 
— Longfelloiv. 

So, our Actor distinguishes himself in this Age, 
in a way peculiar to himself, yet his "distinction" in 
the fight may be good or bad, with or without Glory. 
He who links Glory with his distinction, whatsoever 
his rank in the army of "Life," is he who is evej 
mindful of performing his part in act and spirit to 
approach as nearly as possible to the Perfect Actor 
of "Life" ; as the Star of Life's Stage would 
perform the same role, according to the actor's 
knowledge thereof. This battle for "distinc- 
tion," which, if not all of "Life's" plot, is an all- 
important part of the drama. The actor's gain of 
"distinction," be it wisdom, wealth, culture, skill, 
fame or power, his laurel of Glory and heroism in 
the fight is measured by the one given standard: 

57 



'All the world's a stage' 



his knowledge of "The Star of Life." 

As the potter may from clay make mud or trans- 
form it into the finest china of moulded vases of rare 
beauty, so man, the potter of his role in "Life's" 
Fourth Scene, enjoys free volition to make "mud" 
of his role, or refine, mould and burn it in the 
heated strategy of battle into rare crystal beauty. 

As the mysterious, tremendously valuable radium 
substance is contained in the very mire, so should 
the potter of this scene will to make "mud" of his 
role, by violating social, moral and natural law^s, 
and in his low state of being, deliberately spatter 
"Life's" stage with his mud of injustice, greed, lust, 
perfidy, dishonesty, selfishness, hatred or inhumanity, 
we must not forget that smothered deep in his slimi- 
ness smoulders the radium "Spark of Divinity" 
to blaze up with the first inviting current that tends 
to draw it from the bog. 

"No life is ivasied in the great nuorker's hand; 
The gem too poor to polish in itself 
We grind to brighten others." 

— Philip James Bailey. 

"China" or "Mud," beautiful or scarred, each re- 
sult will be according to the determined purpose 
of the potter of the role. Good or bad, each act of 
man will be as the intent of the deed, either to adorn 
"Life's" stage with an ornament of beauty and use- 
fulness or smear and smudge with mud. 

"As much eternal springs the cloudless skies, 
As man forever temperate, calm and wise." 

58 



'All the world's a stage 



Yet, in "Life's" play, an accident may happen. 
The potter may with earnest effort and great skill 
mould and refine a rare and fine china ornament 
that, by some accident, through ignorance, becomes 
cracked, shattered and spoiled. So our actor's pur- 
pose, be it ever so well defined, may be broken 
and thrown into chaos by "Life's" accidents. The 
good, innocent, honest and courageous may, by ig- 
norance, misdirection or betrayal be thrown into 
the lurid turmoil and become derelicts in the sea 
of "Life." 

It is in the derelict actor that we see the sting 
of existence portrayed; the ignorant in his pitiful 
state; the scoundrel in his infamy; the pious in his 
jealousy; the hypocrite in his pretence; the fool in his 
grotesque interpretation of "Life's" plot; — "Life's" 
shivering, disinherited, villainous out-cast that ac- 
tively weaves his hindering acts in and out, menacing 
"Life's" plot. Yet, this malicious character, who 
clings tenaciously to his villainous role, in the "Play 
of Death," is no less interesting than he who battles 
earnestly with the army to support "Life's" plot. 
In fact, the derelict's participation excites constant 
attention. We are alert, watching for his treachery; 
awed by his complete badness ; pitying his ignorance ; 
sympathizing with his foolishness; keyed to a high 
strain of suspicion of every act of the dynamite 
destroyer that plants himself on "Life's" battlefield 
to explode and destroy man's highest purposes. 

Thus, we may see our Soldier actor in the Fourth 
Scene of his time, according to his individual mindj 
heart and will, acting his part in the Battle of 

59 



'All the world's a stage' 



"Life," using whatsoever weapon that meets the 
emergency of his time and place, stimulated ever 
by the same spirit that lives in every soldier's heart, 
weak or strong, as the case may be. Be he: 

"John, Peter, Robert or Paul, 
God in his ivisdom created them all; 
John a statesman, Peter a slave, 
Robert a preacher and Paul — a knave. 
Evil or good, as the case might be, 
White or colored, bond or free — 
John, Peter, Robert, and Paul, 
God in his ^wisdom created them all. 

"Out of earth's elements, mingled ivith flame, 
Out of life's compounds of glory and shame, 
Fashioned and shaped by no ivill of their oiun, 
And helplessly into life's history thronun; 
Born by the laiv that compels man to be, 
John, Peter, Robert, and Paul, 
Born to conditions they could not foresee, 
God in his wisdom created them all. 

John the head and heart of his state. 
Trusted and honored, noble and great; 
While Peter 'neath life's burdens did groan, 

Robert, great glory and honor received, 

While Paul, of the pleasures of sin took his fill. 
The purpose of Life ivas fulfilled in them all." 
— Anonymous. 

The harsh clamor of the firing-line strife gives 

the soldier a secretive zest for living. The tossing 

about in the tempest battle, the problems solved, 

difficulties unraveled, perplexities endured and ene- 

60 



'All the world's a stage' 



mies conquered, toughens him. The grinding of 
"Life's" spears against his shield of welded virtues, 
the frictional rubbing of his onward battering pres- 
sure toward his purpose elect, polishes the precious 
gem of his manhood, making him a radiant jewel, 
to reflect the shining light of the Perfect Soldier, — 
the Hero of the Battle of "Life," — The Nazarene. 



6i 



SCENE V 



FIFTH AGE 



"The Justice, 
In fair round belly ivitk good capon lined, 
fVith eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
Full of ivise saivs and modern instances." 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 



Programme 

Time: Past, Present^ Future. 
Cast: "The Justice." 
Scene: Mountain-top of "Life." 
Lighting : Afternoon. 
Orchestra : "Victory." 
Stage Supervisor: Himself. 
Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 
The Nazarene 



63 



SCENE V 
FIFTH AGE 

"The Justice, 
In fair round belly laith good capon lined, 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saivs and modern instances." 
— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

Viewing the masterful rocks and desolate cliffs 
that build themselves, stanch and secure one above 
another, into gigantic mountains, to soar aloof in 
majestic strength, we see the scene, which in the 
blazing sunlight of "Life's" Battlefield appeared 
gruesome, now wonderfully softened by the shadow- 
ing tints of the sun's golden rays that slip over the 
Mountain-top, penetrating the grotesqueness of the 
scene, painting the picture in royal shades of purple 
and gold, a gorgeous array of "Victory" in har- 
mony with the "Justice," who appears in the Fifth 
Scene of "Life," as the acme of things accomplished, 
having victoriously climbed to the apex of his role 
in "Life." He, the heir of the Ages, stands on his 
Mountain-top of "Life," in the acting of his time 
and place. His time may date back to the early 
swing of "Life's" rude, crude, barbaric day, — to the 
dim-distant, aboriginal activity; the "Cliff Dwell- 
ers" in their caves; the "Tribes"; the scenes during 

65 



'All the world's a stage' 



"Life's" "Dark Ages"; the "Christian Era"; the 
"Mediaeval Period," or he may be a character actor 
in the immediate weighty age, when the entire cast 
of actors on the stage of "Life," from the east to the 
west, the north to the south, through the throbbing 
mechanical hearts of telegraphy and telephone, are 
linked closer and stronger together, so that man's 
every act, instantaneously, as it were, penetrates 
through the entire system, subjecting "Life's" stage 
of action to be daily shaken by man's modern ac- 
tivity: thunderbolts of science, theology, philosophy, 
commerce and tragic barbaric slaughter. In what- 
soever age and whatsoever place, — be it among the 
northern crystal bergs of ice, the swaying orange 
groves of the "Holy Land" or in the sleeping south- 
lands, — anywhere; on island, continent or sea, we 
may find the "Justice" on his individual "Mountain- 
top," whether his summit be a pinnacle of the 
average, irregular range, or one of the high peaks 
that loom up sublimely. 

In a semi-state of tranquillity, he watches from 
his station on the lofty wall the troubled sea of 
"Life" that flows beneath, looking afar to those 
Ages that have slipped away; those Scenes of "Life's" 
twisting and turning roads that he has stumbled 
over and made: 

"Footprints on the sands of time." 

"Footprints, that perhaps another, 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipnjurecked brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again." 
— Longfellow. 

66 



'All the world's a stage' 



His high, distant view of former scenes of "In- 
fant," "Boyhood," "Youth" and "Soldier," with the 
gladness of their good and the sadness of their bad, 
now seem, through the veil of the past, other than 
they used to appear ; good not so good ; ill not so ill. 

Withdrawn from "Life's" clamoring activity into 
the rarefied atmosphere of the azure world, he medi- 
tatively examines himself, objectively and without 
illusions, inquiring into the success of his elected 
purpose in the grand drama. He searches his en- 
cyclopedia of experience; measures his spent re- 
sponsibilities and weighs his role's true worth that 
built up toward his highest aspiration for exalting 
Truth, as he saw it, that he may, judiciously, pre- 
scribe a pattern thereof: 

"Full of ivise saws and modern instances" 

for those actors who follow. 

The recapitulation of his accumulated resources, 
suitable for supervising "Life's" younger actors, re- 
veals the acknowledged fact that he knows about 
many things foreign to his immediate activity, but 
that he only knows in a true sense, the cues to 
his elected "Life" role, which have been written in 
the ink of personal experience. He knows how to 
weave "Life's" threads of dreams, loves, and religion 
with the cords of ignorance, knowledge and temp- 
tation, mingled, good and ill together, into the tissue 
of his traditionally shaped role, — woven in 'pattern 
and color all his own. This knowledge of his ex- 
perienced cues that crystallized his purpose in "Life," 

67 



'All the world's a stage' 



In the isolation of his being, proves only the "A B C" 
knowledge of the grand drama being played by men 
on the broad stage. The innumerable roles in the 
cast of men in the whole drama of "Life," from 
the rising to the lowering of the World's curtain, 
by the Omnipotent Manager, are to him, in all his 
self-exalted wisdom, as the algebraic unknown quan- 
tity! 

Yet, Man labels the crystallization of his deter- 
mined purpose in "Life," good or bad, "Success," 
though "no man knows his true success," and im- 
mediately assumes therefrom a self-laudable manner 
that has been potent at terms in former ages. We 
see the "Justice" of "Life," 

"JVith eyes severe" 

in the egotism of his power ^ tempered, however, with 
the precaution of experience. This life-thirst for 
power, that invigorated his former activities and kept 
"Life" from being stale, now, that it has been 
quenched with the soothing liquid of efficiency, stimu- 
lates a stern, deep satisfaction, a static role of semi- 
independence from men. We see him in his hour 
of efficient "Victory": — 



"His tongue luas framed to music 
And his hand ivas armed luith skill, 
His face ijvas the mould of beauty, 
And his heart the throne of ivill." 
—r-Emerson. 



'All the world's a stage' 



His performance, that crowned his role with "dis- 
tinction" may be that of an efficient hunter of the 
primitive era; a tiller of the soil; a body-servant; a 
tradesman in the market-place ; a seaman ; a manual 
laborer; a professional man, whatsoever focus for 
distinction he may have aimed, in his effort to sus- 
tain, produce and perpetuate the plot of "Life." 
To achieve was the goal. 

Some men's achievement, in the eyes of the stage 
participants, appear more satisfactory than the 
achievement of fellow-men high on a neighboring 
"Mountain-top" of different range, their efficiency 
being made more conspicuous by the spot-light of 
the World's stage, shifted by the fickle public clamor 
being momentarily flashed upon them, and in the 
glare of this revealing light their accomplishments, 
apparently, supersede those of their fellow actors, 
who in surrounding shadow are participating with 
equal efficiency. 

The measure of man's "Success" is for the Omnip- 
otent Manager alone to determine, from the 
motive of man's works, which is secreted deep in 
the inner-soul of the actor. Whether or not his 
motive is in harmony with that of "Life's" plan, 
which grants him grace of soul peace with men 
and Manager. 

"The bird that soars on highest loing 

Builds on the ground her loiuly nest; 
And she that doth most sweetly sing, 

Sings in the shade 'where all things rest; 
In lark and nightingale <we see 
What honor hath humility. 
69 



'All the world's a stage' 



"The saint that wears heaven's brightest cronun 

In deepest adoration bends; 
The nueight of glory bo<ws him doivn 

Then most, luhen most his soul ascends, 
Nearest the throne itself must be 
The footstool of humility." 

Worldly actors may appraise their fellow-actors 
"Good" or "Bad," according to their point of view, 
their limited observation, their interpretation, their 
prejudice: be the actor a Monk, a Sailor, a "Croe- 
sus," a "Dante," a "Rousseau," a Preacher, a 
Merchant or a Gypsy^ — his True Success in "Life's" 
acting is accounted, only, by him and his Omnipotent 
Manager. We cannot see it, it makes no difference 
what havoc or clamor, what praise or censure his 
outward actions may have reaped from the on-look- 
ing world of actors. 

The style of acting, arriving at the same climax, 
varies according to his position on the broad stage: 
he who achieves fame for efficiency among the tribes 
of the Dark Continents engages in a performance 
distinctly foreign to the role of the man in a more 
advanced civilization. The African on the Congo 
rug; the Hindu on the Indian rug; the Alaskan on 
the frozen northern fringe of the World's stage 
carpet, each in his traditional way, arrives at this 
Age of dignity. With all its limitations and with 
all its magnanimity, an age of dignity, it is. Man 
poised on the uppermost cube of the pyramid of 
immeasurable time! Of all past eternity that has 
been spent in nebular hypothesis, evolution, geology, 
— the "Justice" is the ripened fruit! Unreservedly, 
70 



'All the world's a stage 



to the "Justice," in all his goodness and all his 
badness, in all his wisdom and all his ignorance, in 
all his perfection and imperfection. Life's struggling 
actors, unitedly, bow in solemn homage to his 
acknowledged superiority in the art of "Life's" act- 
ing; he who has made his ins and outs; he who 
has learned his lessons (whether he follows them or 
not) ; he who knows the unbending general laws of 
"Life," against which he has ground his frictional 
way up "Life's" rocky road to the "Mountain- 
top." 

"Faithful and friendly the arms that have helped me. 

Cycles ferried and cradle, rowing and rowing like cheer- 
ful boatmen; 

For room to me stars kept aside in their oivn rings; 

They sent influences to look after what was to hold 
me. ... 

All forces have been steadily employed to complete and 

delight me; 
Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul." 

— fVali Whitman. 



71 



SCENE VI 
SIXTH AGE 

"Age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side. 
His youthful hose, ivell saved, a ivorld too luide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound." 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 



Programme 

Time : Past, Present, Future. 
Cast: "Age." 

Scene : A Mirage of "Life's" former Scenes, be- 
fore "THE RAINBOW ARCH." 
Lighting : Sunset. 
Orchestra: "Harmony" from Minor tones of 

Memory. 
Manager: The Omnipotent. 

Supporting the "Star of Life" 

The Nazarene 
73 



SCENE VI 
SIXTH AGE 

"Age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
JVith spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 
His youthful hose, ivell saved, a tvorld too luide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound." 

— Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

The real beauty of a picture is revealed by the 
last strokes of the artist's brush. So the Stage of 
"Life" is made most beautiful by the last touches 
Nature gives her picture as day declines, when with 
her lingering, loving caress, she kisses the fleeting, 
foamy clouds with sunshine's golden gleams, vivid, 
yet as delicate as morning's silver shafts, spraying 
the heavenly vault with a prismatic display of color, 
as if the Rainbow mist had been shattered for deli- 
cate heavenly adornment. The slipping "westering 
sun," that coquettishly plays hide and seek behind 
her feathery fan of mist, delights the sparkling lakes 
until they dimple in shifting shadow. After the 
frolic of the eve Nature's solemn love-light, in 
deepest hue, lingers delicately, in a tender mellow 
glow of golden calm over her painting of a day, — 

75 



"All the world's a stage' 



her finished picture; — "Sublimity," throwing soft 
and silent rays on Man's, now, smooth earth-path 
that leads to Peace. 

Yet, with far surpassing beauty, more delicate, 
intricate, infinite and wonderful; "Age," grand and 
profound, enters on Nature's stage of "Sublimity" 
to paint, with a master-hand, the last vivid strokes 
of "Life," giving subtle, delicate, veiled finishing 
strokes of an artist, obliterating and retouching, 
until we see the finished picture of "Harmony" in 
act and spirit. 

The stream of Time holds now, only the golden 
liquid of Life, the ills, the wearinesses, the uglinesses 
have been drunk, and are gone, "with the sorrows 
that are theirs," and only the beauty, the sweetness 
of "Life" are left in the stream for him to sup. We 
see him, all through "Age," drink sweet and beau- 
tiful memories from the river of Time, until the 
last molecule passes on with the current of Time 
into the ocean of Eternity, — back of the Rainbow 
Arch! 

"Age" wrapped in his blanket of years, 

"Shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 
His youthful hose, ivell saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound." 

—Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 

Yet, beneath his shrunken, faded, wrinkled, 
threadbare temporal robe, that has been worn over 
76 



"All the world's a stage' 



the flowery paths of youth, the stormy fields of bat- 
tle, the pinnacles of success, hides the perfect nur- 
tured roots of Youth's sentiments, illusions and vaga- 
ries. Though the man be shriveled and warped, 
physically, by the snow of years, the distilled per- 
fume of Youth's unfolded flowers is with him to 
sweeten "Age." 

Minor tones of "Memory" play a melody, sweet 
in echoes of "Life's" former scenes, as glimmering 
mirages of his innocent Childhood, radiant Youth 
and stern Manhood, float in from the "Sands of 
Time," making "Age's" irradiant, retrospective 
scene one with poetic glamour. He — 

"Stealest fire 
From the fountains of the past, 
To glorify the present," 

— Tennyson. 

As the glowing, beautiful scenes of "Life's" gar- 
nered harvest float vividly into realistic view through 
the misty glimmer of Memory's mirage, all despond- 
ency of Age's physical decrepitude vanishes and in 
illusion he lives without exertion, for 

"To dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine^' 

when truant fancy wanders to the old sweet scenes 
of time. 

"Hardly lue learn to ivield the blade, before 
The ivrist groins stiff and old; 
Hardly <we learn to ply the pen, ere Thought 
And Fancy faint ivith cold." 

— Burton. 

77 



'All the world's a stage 



"Last Age of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion." 

Yet, "Life is as long as each man has a 'Today' " 
this side of the Rainbow Arch! 

In the tranquil evening glow of twilight, when 
the lips of night whisper messages of rest, and earth's 
sweet lilies inactively close their delicately frail 
petals in sweet repose, Man, too, in his physical 
fragility, closes involuntarily his withered, faded and 
failing presentative and representative petals: 

"Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste." 

They sink in sleep, leaving Man richer and fuller 
in the power for which he used them during the 
Play of "Life"; the power to reason, to hope, to 
discern truth, to love, to think, to will ; Man's soul- 
power, and in deep soul-communion, he dreams! 



Man of men, a member of "Life's" acting com- 
pany: 

". . . The human race. 
Of every tongue, of every place, 
Caucasian, Coptic, or Malay, 

78 



'All the world's a stage' 



All that inhabit this great earth, 
Whatever be their rank or luorth." 
— Longfelloiu. 

has always acknowledged, since he became a re- 
sponsible being, conscious of the "Spark of Divinity" 
within him, that he is allied to a superior power, 
an Omnipotent God and Manager, who has his 
highest reverence: a "Zeus," a "Jupiter," an 
"Allah," a "Jehovah," God, — named to suit his time 
and place. He interprets his part in "Life" accord- 
ing to his understanding of the Omnipotent's will, 
until his grand earthly rehearsal is finished for his 
true Life eternal role beyond the canopy of the 
Rainbow Arch, when he passes in peace, out of the 
stage-world's wing of time: 



'Sans everything! 



Yet: 



"Life is real! Life is earnest! 

And the grave is not its goal; 
'Dust thou art, to dust returnest' 
Was not spoken of the soul." 
— Longfellow. 

For the Nazarene left his rainbow-circled throne 
of light for wonderings sad and lone, in weariness 
and woe of earthly night : "God," the Omnipotent, 
manifest in the flesh of Man; the perfect, spotless, 
sinless "Star of Life," who came, according to 
God's incarnation plan, to save and to redeem per- 
plexed, distracted and lost Man for the emancipa- 
79 



'All the world's a stage' 



tion of "Life" eternal — back of the Rainbow Arch, 
where : 

"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
Neither have entered into the heart of man, 
The things which God hath prepared for them that love 
him." 

-^I Corinthians, 2:g. 



"fFHEN EARTH'S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED" 

(Back of the Ratnboiu arch!) 

"When Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are 

tivisted and dried, 
When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest 

critic has died. 
We shall rest, and, faith, ive shall need it — lie doivn for 

an aeon or t<wo. 
Till the master of all good ivorkmen shall set us to ivork 

anew/ 

"And only the master shall praise us, and only the master 

shall blame; 
And no one shall ivork for money, and no one shall 

ivork for fame; 
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his 

separate star. 
Shall draio the Thing as he sees it for the God of Things 

as they Are!" 

— Rudyard Kipling. 



8i 



Deacidifled using the Bookkeeper procs: 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: ... 




Mi: 



JAN 1909 

RKEEPB 




m 



